Enchiridion: A Hunter's Tale
by BadJohn
Summary: Beck Allgood, a young Hunter, provides his services as a search and rescue operative in the City's most dire time of need. Can the hired gun and his comrades put a dent in the Darkness, and help Humanity take back the land they lost after the Golden Age?
1. Chapter 1

Outside, in the cold distance, a small trail of dust and blue, afterburner flame streaked across the dusty ground of old Russia. Far from the safe, ever-glowing gaze of the Traveler, a man on a speeder-bike rode his vehicle quickly across worn roads, borne down by the foot traffic of sightseers from hundreds of years ago, in humanity's golden age.

Despite the dire nature of the situation, riding was still nice. Having maintained his speeder-bike almost constantly four weeks without an assignment, it was nice to get back on the frontier and pump the ignition of his S-21 Nomad. The vehicle, narrow and straight, with sharp black fins, peeled up dirt and dry grass as it flew over the landscape.

"Where are you..." The rider watched the heads up display of his helmet, hoping he'd find his quarry before it was too late. Whoever it was, their transmission was brief and panicked, only received by chance as he was riding along, searching for valuable, yet ancient technologies.

His bike silently shifted gears as he turned, driving around a crashed shuttle. He noticed a wing, half buried in dirt, and revved his engine, his silver hood lightly fluttering as he leaned his head down to pick up speed and get a clear view. He drove up the massive stabilizer of the rusty old ship, ramping off of it and flying through the air for a few moments. In the quiet descent, he began a short conversation with his guide.

"Ghost. Am I getting close?" The rider spoke to the people-pleasing AI lurking inside of his armor.

"One more mile, Beck. Behind the maintenance building on the hilltop. You can see it from here past that downed shuttle." The cool voice spoke from inside his helmet, and a small blip appeared on the map. "I've already acquired data from the crashed ship. It was manned by a single survey pilot."

"Can you dig up the pilot's name? I'd rather not waste time with an introduction." Beck Allgood, a Hunter from the Last City, gently placed a hand on the revolver on his hip, sliding out the cartridge to check if all six bullets were loaded.

The Ghost commented in a light, analytic voice. "Natasha Ackerson. Human name. Pretty." The AI's voice took on a cheery, mocking tone. "You're no Warlock, but perhaps it would behoove you to...work a little magic?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Ghost. You know that isn't what I meant." As the speeder landed, the petals where Beck's feet rested lightly scraped the ground, dust covering his dark, wayworn boots. "Let's just hope we're not too late. Fallen don't collect human prisoners."

"Correct." The Ghost continued Beck's train of thought, having heard the colloquialism enough times before to recite it. "They prefer to collect human skulls."

Cornered, a frightened human in thin piloting armor cowered inside the cockpit of a crashed ship survey. Shot down, unable to take off, and surrounded by clanking noises, gunfire, and the sound of tearing metal, Natasha remained curled in a ball, terrified of the inhuman chatter outside.

On the outside of the ship, Natasha's worst fear lurked in numbers.

The Fallen. Humanoid arachnids. These alien men with multiple eyes and impressive height paced around the ship. The highest ranking, a Captain adorned in silver armor and bearing four long, muscular arms, he lifted one of his fists in the air, issuing a command. His alien roar boomed, silencing his men and setting them to work. His lieutenants, their lower arms folded and their rifles in hand, stood a head shorter, but with just as much pride.

His underlings, Dregs of their society, chattered as they worked, using their two arms to work. With their lower arms amputated, a testament to their ineptitude and low-blooded status, they worked with a kind of desperate alacrity, using tools and alien muscle to pry at and tear off strips of the ship's plate metal. A valuable commodity.

Fortunately, none of them had noticed Natasha, cowering inside the cockpit. They presumed she was a dead body, still as a rock.

However, one person did not overlook the frightened pilot. Beck's bike ran silent, aiding his approach, as he looped around from a safe distance, evaluating the scene.

"One captain, two lieutenants, and five two-armed goons. Piece of cake," Beck grumbled, taking his primary hand-cannon off of its holster. He made a b-line towards them. He aimed at the easiest targets, keeping his head low and firing.

With two powerful gunshots, two of the dregs dropped, holes torn in the sides of their heads. Noticing the threat, the remaining six pirates turned their heads to spot the Hunter. He leaped off of his bike, and it flew towards one of the idle dregs.

The bike went clean through the alien commoner, its legs hitting the ground and its torso sailed through the air. Bifuricated, the low-ranking fallen died instantly.

The Captain, outraged by the audacity of the Hunter, and only slightly annoyed by the deaths of his lower ranking men, turned a commanding finger towards the Hunter, ordering his remaining four men to open fire.

Beck rolled to a stop and drew his second pistol, aiming with his left hand. With two shots, he eliminated the remaining dregs, and turned his eyes towards the lieutenants. They fired on him, peppering the ground but missing as he leaped out of the way of the hail of laser-fire.

Hiding behind the downed ship, he thought through his next move, making a snap decision. He leaped onto the ship, climbing up the side with sure, careful steps, and standing on top of it, taking the two of them by surprise. Without a word, he fired both guns in concert. The bullets pierced through one of the lieutenants, dropping him in just a few shots.

He turned his smoking guns on the second lieutenant, but when he pulled the triggers, he was met only with anemic clicks. "...Shit." He'd forgotten that he only had twelve shots to spend. The second lieutenant threw down his gun and drew four knives. The blades lit with crackling electric energy. A cruel technology, these blades were meant to cut and taser any unfortunate enough to taste their edges.

With a powerful bark, the lieutenant charged up the side of the ship. Beck backed away, as a knife stabbed towards his face. He sidestepped and ducked as the four knives pistoned and swung at him. The Fallen Captain shouted cruel words of encouragement at his pupil, eager to see the human's blood spilled.

Beck, on the other hand, was less than pleased with the concept of being skewered alive. With no time to reload his guns, draw his own more conventional knife, or reach for the trump card on his back, he put his left pistol away, and grasped his primary pistol by the barrel.

He ducked a swing from both knives, and swing the handle of his pistol like a hammer, striking and cracking the lieutenant's knee with the blow. He turned and swung his fist upwards, cracking the lieutenant in the jaw. The Hunter felt the reverberation of bone breaking, as the lieutenant fell backwards and rolled off the side of the broken ship.

The Captain and Beck locked eyes. Wind blew a soft, relaxed tune, interrupted only by the crackling of broken equipment from the crashed ship. Beck was in the open, with few places to run, and very little time to reload. His only chance was to go for the special, all purpose weapon on his back, and even that would take a moment to charge.

The Fallen Captain's knuckles cracked, as did Beck's. The Hunter could tell that the Pirate had his rifle loaded, hanging from a clip on his back. His would take no time to rack and fire. No matter which pair of arms he used, or how clumsy he was preparing to shoot, the result would be the same.

Beck as dead to rights. His only hope was a miss-fire or a clean dodge.

But, luck was on his side.

Natasha opened the hatch of the cockpit, pulling the emergency release. "...Hello? Is it safe to come out?"

The Captain turned his head, roaring and drawing his rifle to shoot at the trepid pilot. Natasha screamed as three bullets hit the side of the ship, missing but scaring the life out of the hapless pilot.

It gave Beck the chance he needed. He drew his fusion rifle, leaped off the ship, and landed on hard dirt. He took a knee, squeezing the trigger as the rifle glowed, seconds from discharging.

The Captain turned too late.

PHSHAAAAAAAW.

The burst of lethal energy caught the Fallen Captain square in the chest, burning clean, dinnerplate sized holes in his broad torso. One of his lower arms was clipped, tearing it clean off. The Pirate fell backwards, thudding to the ground, killed instantly.

Beck lowered his rifle and stood, victorious.

"You cut it awfully close, Beck. Had me scared." His Ghost spoke in its light accent quite gravely, but even without a mouth for the Hunter to look at, Beck could tell that his AI partner was smiling.

"Oh can it, Ghost. Let's see if this wreck has any working parts we can salvage." Beck grinned, and sauntered towards the cockpit, offering a hand to help Natasha out. "C'mon, ma'am. You're safe for now, but you can't stay in there."

As Natasha took his hand and unfastened the seatbelt, Beck looked down at the "damsel" for the first time, surprised.

Natasha was a young man in his twenties, with curly red hair. "Thank you SO much, sir. How did you know my name?"

"...Who names a boy Natasha?" Beck pondered. Natasha, however effeminate, took offense, balling his fists.

"Hey. Natasha was my dad's name. Did you just come out here because you thought I was a girl?" Folding his arms, the red-haired pilot, glared at Beck.

"Hey. I don't save people just to sleep with them, guy. Why don't you calm down." Beck lifted both hands defensively, backing up a bit. He didn't intend to fight with the young man, but didn't want to get slugged either, maintaining a healthy distance.

"Yes. Let's not rule anything out." The Ghost materialized as a complex, one eyed polygon, slowly orbiting Beck's head. The Hunter was grateful for a moment, assuming that the AI intended to act as a voice of reason. "Just because you're a man doesn't mean Beck won't sleep with you."

The AI was met with a cold glare from the Hunter. "Shut it, Ghost."

Before the idle banter could continue, the roar of more Fallen echoed throughout the ruined plains. Beck reloaded his guns, and turned to Natasha. "Yo. You don't have any problems riding on the back of a speeder bike, do you?"

"Not really, if you get me out of here!" Natasha ran to Beck's bike, who followed, the two of them hopping on, as Beck kicked the engine back to life, the brown and black Sparrow floating off the ground.

Beck's AI floated over his shoulder, looking at the crashed ship. "What about the shuttle? It could have usable parts."

"We'll have to let the Fallen have the stupid thing. At least this kid didn't get killed over it." Beck turned the bike, and began speeding away, Ghost returning to his armor.

"Wait, if you don't care about the salvage in the ship, why'd you come out here anyway?" Natasha shouted over Beck's shoulder, and the Hunter simply shrugged as he sped away from a small patrol of Fallen.

"To keep your sorry ass out of harm's way. Getting caught by Fallen is a LOUSY way to die." The Fallen barked and chattered at Beck's back, screaming alien insults at him as he made a clean getaway.

"So you showed up just to save my neck, huh? How much do I owe you?" The pilot dreaded whatever Beck intended to take in compensation for the deed, but the Hunter shook his head.

"The Traveler didn't keep debts when it protected us all those years ago, and it faced WAY worse odds. So I don't expect any payment for saving you. Now shut up and hang on!"

Natasha, still a bit skeptical, looked ahead, squinting as Ghost spoke up. "I joked a bit, but he isn't lying. He did genuinely want to help for nothing in return. It seems illogical, but it's a likable trait within his belief structure."

Putting two and two together, Natasha nodded. "So you're one of those folks who believe the Traveler is a God or something?"

Beck, impatient, snapped back. "I don't know what it is, but it's clearly something worth emulating, if not worshiping. Think about it. It was patient enough to lead us by the hand into the Golden Age, loyal enough to stick around with the going got tough, and powerful enough to protect our city, even if it is dormant."

"Then why hasn't it helped us in so long?" Natasha's question hung in the air for a moment, before Beck found the wherewithal to answer.

"Because maybe it can't, and it's our turn to protect each-other. If I hadn't, you'd be dead right now, so don't be so quick to knock it."

With that, Beck, the Ghost, and the pilot zoomed off to safety, living to bicker another day.


	2. Chapter 2

As the hunter's footfalls echoed in the cavern, he kept a hand wrapped nervously around the hand-cannon on his thigh. The eerie glow allowed him to walk and look around without his helmet's night-vision, but the pale, yellow-green light never lit more than a few yards in front of him.

The discomforting quiet was interrupted by dripping, unpleasant moisture from the ceiling and small holes in the wall. Some fell on the hunter's head, more often than he'd like. Each plinking droplet on his hood and shoulders made him cringe, his hand clenching on his gun, his thumb pressed against the hammer.

He passed dark, whispering, windy tunnels on either side, but he passed them, looking briefly into each one. Erring on the side of caution, he ignored the smaller pathways into darkness, deciding to stick to the job at hand.

"Come now, Mister Allgood. Whistle a tune. Sing a song. Something to break the silence." Beck's Ghost broke the tension with a few words, but Beck looked around, grunting in response as he cautiously wandered the cavern. "You should be happy. We're being paid by the meter, and all we need to do is map the main route of this dank little cave. You're literally being paid - and quite handsomely - to walk."

Beck turned his head to appraise his surroundings. Pale-green stalagmites, stalactites, and jutting clusters of green crystal decorated the odd, ugly cavern.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark, Beck."

The hunter, a bit offended, responded quickly. "I'm not scared of shit. I'm just worried this green light might be radioactive."

"Your suit guards from radiation. You'd survive in SPACE wearing this suit. Sojourn armor isn't cheap, Beck."

The hunter raised an eyebrow at the glowing crystals, and the strange slimes and mosses surrounding the otherwise stone walls, floor, and ceiling of the tunnel. "Hey, Ghost. Cross reference what I'm looking at. Just to make sure I'm save in this shit-hole."

"Alright, you big hypochondriac. I'm checking it with publically shared video feeds from other Ghosts and their Vanguards." The Ghost silently searched, until both of them noticed the anomaly on Beck's motion tracker with a creeping horror"

Folding his arms, Beck took his hand off his gun. A shadow lightly shifted on the wall, and his motion tracker pinged red. He didn't notice the oddity for a moment, when red appeared in three different directions. The single target nearby was closer than the rest, but fortunately, he had the presence of mind to take the approaching movement seriously.

The Ghost broke the tense quiet with a stern, frightened warning. "Beck, we need to go. This is a Hive."

Beck turned towards the shadow on the wall as it sprang forward. A devil with three glowing, sharp claws on each hand, the Hive thrall bolted towards the hunter. He turned his gun on the creature, but its hand swiped at the barrel of his trusted revolver, swatting it and forcing his shot to miss. The beast collided with his shoulder, sending them both sprawling into the floor.

With all his strength he seized its throat, forcing it off him as he got onto one knee and held it at bay. The thrall swiped at his head and arms, as the hunter pushed back, forcing it across the room and pushing it against the nearby wall. With all his strength, he squeezed its throat, holding it down with his left arm as he drew his knife.

The thrall pushed back, forcing the two of them away from the cave wall and onto the ground. They rolled as Beck frantically pistoned his blade. The thrall kept squawking and screaming his is face as he came out on top. He screamed back as he pushed the knife in and out, lifting his arm and slamming it down with each attack. The thrall screamed and thrashed and bit and clawed, fueling the hunter's desperate fury, until he finally ended it with a final stab to the head.

The thrall fell still and quiet, as Beck stepped off, putting away his knife as he caught his breath, preying to the Traveler that that was the end of his troubles.

"BECK! Multiple incoming! From both sides!" The Ghost called Beck's attention to both ends of the long chamber. Both sides of the cavern, the entrance and the path leading further in, were populated with walls of approaching hive. Sixty meters away on either side, the hunter clearly saw the matte grey, shrieking faces of his pursuers.

"We're TRAPPED."

"…Bike. NOW." Beck drew both pistols and took a knee, firing into the dark in the direction of the entrance. "If they're trying to block me in, I'll FORCE my way out! I'm not dying in here!"

He aimed carefully, lowering one gun as he emptied the cylinder, than the other. With careful, well timed squeezes of the trigger, he emptied both guns, aiming for the head with every shot. The falling bodies tripped some of the devils up, forcing them to trample down and crawl over each-other.

As Beck's saving grace - his Nomad speederbike – arrived, the hunter leapt onto it and rocketed towards the cave entrance, keeping his head low and his eyes narrow.

"…If we don't make it, it was an honor working with you, Mister Allgood."

"Not like this, Ghost." Keeping his breathing even and his heart slow, Beck torqued his jaw.

_This could be it. They might pull me off my bike and tear me to shreds._

The nose of Beck's speeder slashed through the first row, slowed down for a moment as its mass and momentum was tested. Beck felt clawing, prying hands grasp and swat and claw at him. Some of the devils grasped the bike, their claws scraping the paint as they failed to find purchase. After that terrifying moment, the old Nomad burst through the row of Hive. Beck weaved through the long passage, avoiding walls and leaping, clawing, ugly footsoldiers.

After a moment, there was glorious, beaming sunlight, as he reached the end of the tunnel. He heard shrieks of indignant, savage anger, but kept driving until the raspy din fell away.

"That was a very risky situation, Beck. They almost had you."

Beck remained laconic, gulping loudly, and gritting his teeth. He'd been close to death before, but never in the dark, far below the surface. His usual enemies were in the light where he could face them. This time, the screaming, overwhelming dark had broken his nerves.

"…I'll give you some time alone to ride and breathe. I'll call the ship in ten minutes."

Beck silently nodded, and rode onward, his hands trembling.

He wasn't being paid enough for this one.


End file.
